


More Than True

by rusting_roses



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Bedtime Stories, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rusting_roses/pseuds/rusting_roses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten." ― G.K. Chesterton</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than True

Once upon a time, there was a machine man and an honorable man.

They were blind to each other, standing back to back in all things so they could not see the goodness in each other's hearts. Ignorant, claimed the one. Obnoxious, claimed the other. Dishonest, claimed the other. Unworthy, claimed the one.

But they were good men, and so they protected each other in battle and in public, acted as allies. It was only when they were unseen, when the world was as blind to them as they were to each other that they picked and sniped and hurt each other for the sake of hurting.

In truth, though, the machine man wore his heart on his sleeve (on his chest)—but he hid it, numbing it, keeping his emotions stilted and small where they could not hurt anyone, least of all him. In truth, though, the honorable man walked in a living nightmare (daydream)—where everything was the same except that nothing was, keeping his heart locked away in his still-frozen center.

Sometimes, when there was no one to see (when they were all blind), they cried.

They always dried their tears and emerged into the world, however, because they were good men, with good friends and a good home. Even if they did not like each other, they had the angry man, the fierce woman, the strong man, the marked man, the competent man. They had more life in their lives than they had since before a bomb with a name on it, before a plane and the ice.

Still they remained off balance despite these people, for the machine man and the honorable man had not tied themselves to each other as they had to everyone else, and it showed. Back to back they would fight. Guarding each other's backs without ever speaking—but while they stood back to back, they faced their enemies alone.

And so it was that they were attacked one day by soldiers with machine minds and souls (rather than a machine heart that beat like a real one), soldiers with no care for each other (rather than an honor and love that kept friends safe). They attacked, and tore the machine man and honorable man apart from where they stood back to back, blind, and took them away into the darkness.

They were good men, and when the machine man and the honorable man awoke, their only thought was for the other—each hoped that the other lived still, and in the darkness a numbed heart stirred, a frozen heart cracked to reveal life. They escaped their confinement because they had learned to be angry and fierce and strong and marked and competent, and they searched for each other because neither would leave the darkness alone.

In the center of that darkness, blind, they touched.

They touched, and they stood side by side as they fought their enemies until they found their friends, who drew them ever closer to freedom. They all fought back to back, side by side, together, unwavering, and stepped into the light.

The light breathed life into a dead heart, melted a frozen one, and the machine man and honorable man smiled at each other, small, tentative things that nevertheless wound around each other. They were safe, and their friends were safe.

Home they went.

Home, where the world was blind to them. Home, where they found themselves alone together (for their friends were occasionally, along with everything else, wise) and spoke of pain without rancor, of anger without sorrow. Home, where they unblinded themselves to each other and found what the others had seen all along: two good men. Slowly, they learned to trust, to care, to love what they found in each other, in those two hearts.

Finally, they stood side by side (in battle, in public, in life, in hearts) and the one looked to the other, and the other looked to the one, and they kissed (because how could they be blind anymore). So they were good men with good friends and good lives and good hearts and good love.

The machine man and honorable man did not live happily ever after—but live they did.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a joke for a friend when she refused to go to bed without a story. I cleaned it up and posted it here. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
